


sentient located

by ivettxwrites



Series: dumb non-powered aus [5]
Category: DCU, DCU (Comics), Marvel Cinematic Universe, Star Trek, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Blue Lantern AU, Blue Lantern!Barry Allen, F/M, HalBarry Week, Halbarry Week 2019, I thought this was gonna be 6k, M/M, Multi, Non-powered AU, Paramedic AU, doesn't even matter, i'm very proud of blubarry au, it's more than double that
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-13
Updated: 2019-08-13
Packaged: 2020-08-20 11:27:52
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 13,203
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20227102
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ivettxwrites/pseuds/ivettxwrites
Summary: Barry Allen always thought he was normal. He worked a perfectly stable job (if being a paramedic could be considered stable, whatsoever), had perfectly normal friends (although veredict was still out on Bucky), and had a perfectly normal life (up until he got magic jewelry that helped him help other people in need). He's thankful the ring saved him, he just wishes he understood how it worked.It helps that his new partner is cute.OrBarry Allen of Earth, you have the ability to instill great hope...and everything that came after that.





	sentient located

**Author's Note:**

> Day 1 of Halbarry Week 2019 starts, for me, with the prompt: Blue Lantern! One of my favorite Halbarry tropes ever, and my favorite canon Flash Fact (hah!) is Barry Allen becoming a Blue Lantern. Admitedly, the sheer dumbassery that these two would get up to if they both had rings as powerful as the universe itself, is too much for the universe to handle and that's why DC hasn't made Barry an actual Blue Lantern for more than like five pages in any comic. 
> 
> A huge thanks to Lyssa and Miranda, who look out for me and help me polish these fics into perfection. To the gals at the Dumbass Squad group chat: Tea, Cassie and Sep, thank you for rooting for me while I slaved away at the halbarry. To Sandy, I am sorry I keep showing you things that you know very little about and I am eternally grateful that you like them all. I am nothing without any of you guys. 
> 
> Hope you guys all enjoy this as much as I enjoyed writing it! Please, if you did, don't be shy to leave a comment! If you don't have much to say, kudos are also always appreciated!

The ring finds him on a chilly Tuesday night while he’s on patrol with Clark and Steve.

Of course, at first, he has no idea that it is a ring, and Barry doesn’t notice it immediately. The paramedic is too focused on the task at hand, working with precision as soon as they arrive at the accident they had been called into. Steve’s driving, and Clark’s co-pilot, so when the ambulance comes to a stop by the car-wreck, Barry’s the first to jump out, instruments and necessary equipment slung over his shoulder as he calls in their arrival to Peggy and Iris at the station.

It’s a bad one. Barry grits his teeth and wills his heart to stop thumping so loudly in his chest. They’ve done this a million times. It’s all going to be alright.

_ [Scanning for hope.] _

The car is upturned, and Barry can smell gasoline somewhere in the area, so they have to work fast. He tells Clark as much, just as the man passes him in a jog to reach the pilot’s door. A man and a woman. An older couple, if Allen is allowed to guess their ages. Barry doesn’t know the details yet, but he’s pretty sure that getting the woman out from the passenger seat is going to be difficult. Her door has a nasty dent on the side, and she’s crying about being unable to pull her seatbelt off.

“Steve!” Barry calls behind him, coming to a stop right next to the passenger door, “Can you bring me the scissors? I need to cut her seatbelt.”

His partner only nods once, pulling something from the ambulance, and Barry turns to look at the woman, who’s hysterical and very close to tears. Clark has already worked around the man’s seatbelt, who didn’t seem to offer much resistance, and he’s trying his best to get the driver out. He’s unconscious and bleeding profusely from a side of his head. Barry’s sure he got the better end of the deal here.

_ [Scanning for hope.] _

“Hello, ma’am,” Barry begins, placing a reassuring hand on the woman’s shoulders. It’s a little bit uncomfortable to talk to her while she’s hanging upside down, but Barry soldiers on, “My name is Barry—Barry Allen. My teammates and I are going to get you out of here, but I need to ask you to keep calm, please. Could you tell me your name?”

The woman is crying profusely now, watching as Clark finally gets who Barry assumes is her husband out the driver’s door. She’s saying something about helping him, about please helping Howard, and Allen only tries to quiet her down, asking her once more to keep calm.

“Ma’am, please,” Barry pleads, just as Steve comes to his side, scissors in hand, “He’s going to be alright; my partner Clark is already tending to him. Could you please tell me your name?”

_ [Scanning for hope.] _

The woman is a little unresponsive, but Barry knows she’s not trying to be difficult on purpose. She looks honest to god terrified, her hands bracing her on the upturned ceiling of the car as she tries to push against gravity. Allen wants to get her out of there as soon as he can, but he has to keep her calm first.

“M-Maria,” comes her stuttering reply, and Barry’s tension eases a little bit when he sees her taking a few deep breaths, trying to steel herself, “Maria Stark—that’s my husband, Howard. He’s going to be alright, isn’t he?”

Barry smiles at the woman, trying to appease her. She’s doing a great job. “Of course, ma’am, my partner knows exactly what he’s doing,” he takes a step back then, asses the damage on the door and hopes it doesn’t get stuck.

_ [Scanning for hope.] _

Firefighters haven’t gotten here, although he’s sure they won’t be taking any longer. The nearest station is just a few minutes away; their ambulance got here first because they had already been out on the road to begin with. If Barry’s calculations are correct, tonight is Kirk’s squad’s third night on shift. Sulu’s response time in the truck is about three minutes tops. They should arrive soon.

“We’re going to try to open the door to get you out, Mrs. Stark,” Barry says, only barely aware of the important surname, “Are there any pressing injuries that might need our attention or that cause you any pain if we were to move you?”

Maria takes a moment to assess herself, her arm shaking a bit, probably exhausted from keeping herself upright. Barry knows the seat belt is enough to keep her in place, but she’s being only held up by the horizontal strap, so it must be painful to be pressed down like that. She looks less and less fragile the more Allen stares at her, but she does have a couple of bruises and cuts—she must’ve taken quite a beating as the car rolled over the highway.

“I—I don’t think so,” she says, finally, “I have a terrible headache, and some of the cuts sting, but I don’t think there are any major injuries.”

Barry nods once, takes the door handle and stifles a groan when it won’t budge when he pulls. He turns to look at Steve, who’s already asking Iris where the firemen are over the comms, and grimaces slightly, hopefully out of sight of Maria. The smell of gasoline is getting thicker by the minute, and Barry doesn’t see any sparks in plain sight, but there’s still the probability that something else inside the car might ignite the combustible. Steve nudges him gently aside, choosing to break the last couple of shards holding to the window, and gripping the door instead of the handle.

It moves, if only a little, but Barry knows it’s not going to be enough.

Steve sighs, a thin sheet of sweat layered over his forehead, but he tries one more time. There’s not much else to do. It’s either this or just waiting around for firefighters. Barry frowns, humming low in his throat, eyes darting to the other door of the car. It’s a little more elevated than Maria’s side of the car, but maybe Barry could get her out from that side.

It would be slightly more difficult, but it’s what he’s got.

_ [Scanning for hope.] _

“Where the hell are Kirk and his men?” Steve asks under his breath, letting go of the door just as Barry turns on his heels.

Jogging to the other side of the car, Barry knows Maria’s eyes follow his form, fear coming back to strike her full force despite neither of the paramedics saying anything. In the far distance, Barry can hear the distinct sound of firemen sirens. Nevertheless, he shuffles inside the car on the other side of Maria, repeating the same process Steve had to break down the last couple of glass shards, and twisting his body so he can fit inside. It’s a little uncomfortable, but Barry’s going to make this work.

“Mrs. Stark, the door on your side is stuck,” he says, honestly but still trying to sound soft, “The firemen are on their way, just one more minute or two from the sounds of it, but we really need to get you out, so I’m going to try to pull you out from this side of the car, is that alright?”

Maria looks stressed, but she gives a tight nod of her head. Steve, on her other side, passes the scissors to Barry’s outstretched hand. He’s going to have to maneuver uncomfortably inside, but it’s a good thing Allen is on the smaller side.

“Steve’s going to help me,” he says, cutting first the tangled mess of a vertical strap that isn’t doing anything to help Maria stay upright but that’s still in the way, “I’m going to cut your seatbelt and I’m going to need you to loop your arm around my neck and trust Steve to help you down. He’s a very strong man, don’t you worry.”

_ [Scanning for hope.] _

He smiles softly at her and she smiles right back, but there’s still deep-instilled fear etched in every crease and outline of her face. Barry doesn’t move to cut her seatbelt just yet, although he knows he should hurry, but there’s something in the tense line of Maria’s brow that stops him.

“Maria,” Barry’s voice is not above that of a whisper, his hand coming to rest on her shoulder again, “I promise you that everything’s going to be just fine. Mr. Stark is being treated in the ambulance as we speak, and Steve and I are not going to let anything happen to you either. I just need you to have some faith in us, okay?”

_ [Sentient located.] _

Mrs. Stark’s nod comes surer now, her smile a lot more relaxed. Barry takes this as his cue to turn toward her seatbelt, nodding once in Steve’s direction before snipping the strap with one clip of the scissors. Maria’s arms come around his neck, Steve making sure to not let her weight all go down in one fell swoop, hands on her waist as he lowers her down. Barry takes a slight step back, to give the woman more room to stretch her legs and helps Steve carry half of her weight on his arms.

_ [Barry Allen of Earth.] _

She huffs out a breath of air, and Barry notices she’s not wearing any shoes, probably discarded somewhere in the wreckage. The ceiling of the car is littered with shards of glass and other objects that might harm her, however, so Barry readjust his position, his hip bumping uncomfortably against something. Steve, thankfully, hasn’t let go of Maria’s legs, helping him still carry some of the weight, but now Allen doesn’t have a lot of space to take her into his arms.

With a small fumble (and a silent thank you that Mrs. Stark is also as small as they come), Barry finally brings her to his chest, leaning back into the nearly broken windshield to allow her to take up most of the space in the car. When he turns to the open driver’s door, Captain James T. Kirk is already standing there, waiting with open arms for Barry to pass the woman on to him.

“Took you long enough,” Barry teases, just as Maria is passed from Kirk’s arms into the stretcher Clark had prepared for her.

_ [You have the ability to instill great hope.] _

Kirk says something that Barry doesn’t manage to catch, as the crackle of a spark sounds somewhere to his left. Steve’s voice hollers at him from his place by Maria’s stretcher, but Allen doesn’t have much time to react. The gasoline he had been smelling since they arrived at the scene lights up too fast, and Barry feels the flames licking at his uniform for only a second, before there’s a blinding blue light. He gasps, confused, but surges forward to climb out of the car before his strike of good luck ends.

Clark’s hands are around him then, pulling him all the way out as he spills out unto the pavement, blue light effectively shutting off around him. There are voices calling his name and the presence of heat moving further away from him as Kent takes him away from the crash. Somewhere, he can hear Maria’s voice, high with concern, and Steve’s reassuring voice, tight around the edges. 

“Barry? Barry, are you okay?” Clark’s voice finally comes into focus and Barry’s blue eyes meet his, dumbfounded, “Man, you scared the hell out of us.”

_ Scared the hell out of myself as well _, he thinks, but chooses to take in a shuddering breath instead of actually voicing his own thoughts.

He has no idea what just happened, or how he came out of that unscathed, but as Clark directs him to the ambulance just to make sure he really is alright, Barry turns over his shoulder to see Kirk and Chekov putting out the flames. Allen blinks a couple of times, dumbfounded, before his partner sits him down next to where Howard Stark is coming back to consciousness and Maria is getting her cuts cleaned out by Steve.

“Oh, _ cariño _,” Maria’s voice is shaky, as she stretches her hand over to caress Barry’s cheek reverently. Under the neon lights and out of the darkness of their car, Allen notices the woman’s warm brown eyes and laugh lines around them, “You were so brave out there, I was so scared for a second that harm might’ve come to you after you helped me and my husband.”

Barry beams at her, letting Clark move his arms to take his pressure and vitals, and simply shakes his head, “All in a day’s work, Mrs. Stark. You were very brave yourself!”

The woman’s laugh is like bells tinkling. It reminds him of his own mother’s laugh. 

“Hey, Bar,” Clark calls out to him, confusion lacing his voice, “since when do you wear rings?”

Barry makes a confused sound in the back of his throat, looking down to his right hand where Kent’s eyes have settled, and he reels back at the sight of a simple blue ring resting on his middle finger.

“I, uh—” his voice trails off, hand coming up to eye level “I don’t wear rings.”

_ [Barry Allen of Earth,] _

The paramedic tenses at the voice, the ring seeming to glow under the streetlamps. Is the ring _ talking _ to him?

_ [you have the ability to instill great hope.] _

He has no idea what that means, of course, and Clark makes a disapproving noise under his breath when the machine tells him Barry’s blood pressure is a little over the normal. Allen is sure it isn’t about the flames (although it should be) but about the strange voice coming from the ring that seems to be only in his head, judging by Kent’s reaction (or lack thereof, in fact). 

“You must’ve forgotten you were wearing it,” Maria’s voice pipes up next to him, where Steve has just finished patching up her ankle, that seemed to be twisted, “It happens to me all the time.” 

Barry nods, absentmindedly, and thinks that must be it. 

The rest of the night goes without a hitch. Howard Stark wakes up just a little while after Barry’s vitals have been checked and he recounts the events of the night, if only a bit hazily. Steve seems concerned about the man’s concussion getting complicated, so he says they should head to the hospital. Mr. Stark only agrees with minimal coaxing from his wife, and they all pile back into the ambulance as soon as their statements have been taken by local police forces. 

Barry rides in the front now, with Steve at the wheel, and Clark tending to the two patients in the back. Allen is distracted, playing with the ring that appeared on him just moments earlier and thinks about how the blue light that had saved him from the car fire was the same shade as the ring’s eerie glow. 

They park at the hospital entrance and Barry comes around to help Mrs. Stark out of the ambulance and into a wheelchair. Contrary to what he had believed initially, her injuries were a lot more superficial than her husband’s, despite the fact that her side of the car had been hit with what appeared to be much more force. Even now, that Allen had helped her down from the truck, her ankle didn’t seem to be giving her much trouble. 

Something tickled urgently in the back of Barry’s mind then. Something that he _ knew _ was important, but couldn’t quite place his finger on it. 

_ [Barry Allen of Earth,] _

That voice again. Barry is concerned that he should tell either Steve or Clark that he’s hearing things and mysterious rings are appearing in his fingers. It’s strange. He should be more worried about this timeline of events. 

_ [you have the ability to instill great hope.] _

It clicks then, images flashing through his head, outlined by that hazy blue light he had been wrapped around earlier, and Barry realizes that Maria’s injuries _ had _ been as bad as he had thought at the beginning, but that this ring, wherever it had come from, had given him the ability to help her and her injuries. Most things aren’t clear, but he gets the general gist of the power he is wearing on his right index finger now. 

“--arry?” Clark’s voice snaps him out of his thoughts, his friend’s hands coming to rest on his shoulder as Barry stays still in the middle of the ER lobby. 

Steve has already taken the Starks to hand them off to one of the nurses on shift--probably Dinah or Penelope--and Barry hadn’t realized that Maria had said goodbye to him in his sudden realization. He turns a sheepish smile at Clark, apologizing under his breath for being distracted, and his partner only pats him once on the back, telling him that they should all head back to the station once Steve is done with the Starks so that he can have some rest. 

But Barry doesn’t feel tired. He tries to tell Kent as much, but the other paramedic is having none of that. 

* * *

He uses the ring a couple more times in the field once he figures how to use it. It’s not hard to get the hang of it, but Barry still doesn’t know enough about the sudden responsibility he’s been given and is still trying to be cautious with it. During the next three weeks, Barry spends his evenings separated from the others at the station, talking with his ring in hushed voices to learn more and more about what it means to be a Blue Lantern. 

That’s what they’re called. The people who have been chosen by rings like his. 

It’s a lot of information, but he has plenty of time to inquire about it. 

At least he _ thinks _ he has the time. In the middle of the last week of their month, Barry, Clark and Steve respond to an accident in downtown Central City. It isn’t supposed to be a major thing, but some idiot had been driving with a very small minor in the front seat, and when the airbags activated after a rough hit, the poor child had been injured with the sheer force of it. 

He was about Wally’s age. Barry feels his blood boil at the sheer irresponsibility.

“It’s going to be okay, Dick,” Barry coos at the boy, who can’t seem to stop crying--the man he had been with wasn’t his father, but rather some foster parent he’d been staying with until now. Allen had an inkling that he’d have to make some calls to figure out this mess and have the boy move to someone more responsible for him, “My friends and I are going to patch you real good and you will recover quickly, okay?” 

_ [Ring power levels low. Proceed to nearest battery.] _

The statement ricochets in his head like a bullet, and Barry tries not to let it show. His smile becomes a little bit more strained than usual, but he does quick work of wrapping Dick’s wrist in a tight bandage and grabbing some alcohol to dab at the small cut he had gotten in his cheek. He doesn’t know how much is “low” in this scenario, but the little boy’s scrunched up face is enough to convince him to use whatever is left of the blue ring to help him diminish the pain at least a little bit. 

_ [Ring power levels critical. Proceed to nearest battery.] _

Barry tries not to curse, but Dick’s tension eases from his shoulders, and a slow smile takes on his features, bruises fading slightly. 

_ [Ring power levels drained. Proceed to nearest battery.] _

“You were right, mister Barry!” Dick yells excitedly, his little arms waving around as his wrist is probably recovering, too, “I’m feeling much better already!” 

_ [Ring functions shut off. Proceed to nearest batt-] _

Barry beams at the child, ruffling his dark hair lovingly, and rises to his full height in order to tell Steve that they’re all done here. His partner is busy patching up the man that had been driving the car, while some officer--he thinks its Bruce, Clark should know, he gets along better with law enforcement--is writing the statement down and looking more and more grim by the second. Barry echoes that thought. 

They wrap it up sometime past five, and Dick drives off, content as all hell, in the back of Officer Wayne’s police car. The policeman had said something about getting the kid back to the Child Welfare Offices up in Dryades Street and 3rd, leaving the foster parent to ride along in the other police car without so much as a word. Barry thinks Bruce is pretty cool. 

So, his ring is out of power, judging by the several warnings he had gotten before fixing Dick up, but he has no idea what it meant when it insisted he “proceed to nearest battery.” There were many things Barry still hadn’t learned about the ring itself, and it had never occurred to him that the object needed to be recharged in some way. He heaves a sigh that lasts an eternity in Steve’s and Clark’s ears, and jumps into the back of the ambulance, shutting the doors tight behind him. 

“All good?” Clark asks, looking at him through the rearview mirror. 

Barry forces himself to smile, thumbing absentmindedly at the now unpowered ring, “Peachy.” 

* * *

Despite not being able to use the ring anymore, Barry had developed the habit of wearing it everywhere he went. He’d wake up in the morning, take a quick shower, and then pop the ring onto its rightful index finger. A routine he didn’t break even on days off. Iris had asked about it once, but he only shrugged and said he had liked it. Now it was like it was a part of him, and power or no, he still woke up and put it on that morning before their shift.

“Ambulance needed, corner of Avalon and 7th,” the crack of static cuts through the easy conversation the three men had been holding in the truck, laughter quieting down sharply as they all turn their attention to Peggy’s accented tone, “There’s a fire on one of the building’s top floors. Firemen have already responded. Medical assistance required.” 

“Ambulance 16 is en route,” Barry answers back, already going through Central City’s map in his head to figure out the best route. “Take the next exit to Francis Street, we’ll loop around the smaller streets and cut some time.” 

Clark nods tightly and does as he’s told. They take about two minutes to get to the apartment complex, where the fire has already spread to the floors top and bottom of the one where it had originated (4th, it’s not a very tall building, thankfully). Barry works methodically, like he always does, and curses under his breath at the useless weight on his finger. He wishes he understood what “proceed to nearest battery” even meant. 

He chases the thoughts away, opening the truck wide to get the gurneys. Ambulances 14 and 12--Danvers and Romanoff--are already on the scene, taking in the first and most urgent cases. He sees Steve whiz past him, running to meet Sulu, who’s holding a passed out woman in his arms, and Clark coming after to take the stretcher from where he’s getting them out and meeting Rogers halfway. They work as fast as they can, giving oxygen and tending to important injuries, barking out orders among them and sending the first batch of people that really need hospitals in Natasha’s ambulance.

“What the ever loving--” Bucky is standing right next to him, head turned up to the sky in disbelief, “He’s _ here _? I didn’t know he made calls so far away from Coast City.” 

Barry finished patching up a little girl who thankfully only got a small cut where she fell down in her haste to escape before Uhura had scooped her up and out of the building. The fire had already spread to the rest of the building, Kirk’s crew unable to stop it from engulfing the entirety of the apartments. According to Chekov’s nervous chatter, however, the building had almost been completely vacated. 

“Well, it’s not every day you get celebrities around here,” comes Steve’s reply to his best friend, following his line of sight with a low whistle, “He’s kind of impressive, isn’t he?” 

Barry finally turns to the sky to the same spot his friends are looking at, and is met with a man shrouded in green flying down to the place right in front of him. His hair is brown, his smile dazzling, and Allen blinks dumbfounded a couple of times before he realizes the man--_ Green Lantern _ \--is talking to _ him _. 

“So, what’s the sitch?” 

“Huh?” Barry answers, eloquently, earning him a couple of snickers from both Steve and Bucky. Sam outright laughs at him somewhere behind him. 

“I said--” 

_ [Green Lantern ring in vicinity. Power levels restored to normal. Functionality at full capacity.] _

**[Blue Lantern ring in vicinity. Power levels at 500%. Functionality above average capacity.] **

It’s the first time Barry’s ring had talked out loud in front of others, but this time its voice mixes with another than sounds almost identical. Allen tries not to jump out of his skin, but fails miserably, and squacks undignified as the same blue light that had protected him from the fire comes back and wrapped more tightly around him. He can hear his friend’s concerned yells somewhere to his left, and a quiet mumble that shouldn’t sound as loud as it does. 

“Huh, interesting,” it’s the Green Lantern’s voice, almost as if right next to him. 

_ [Barry Allen of Earth,] _

As the blue light dissipates, Barry turns to look down at himself, paramedic uniform long gone and replaced with a tight fitting spandex in blue and black. He lets out another squawk and turns to search for the other man’s eyes. 

_ [welcome to the Blue Lantern Corps.] _

“Welcome to the Blue Lantern Corps, buddy,” Green Lantern’s statement is laced with amusement, mixing with his ring’s deadpan voice, “why don’t we break in your squeaky new uniform and get the fire down?” 

Barry blinks owlishly at the man, confused and unable to move a single muscle in his body. Instead of answering, he searches frantically for Steve’s eyes somewhere behind the green clad body, and tries to get an answer from them. 

“Don’t look at _ me _,” Steve is two seconds away from bursting into laughter, that much he knows, “You’re the one in the blue suit.” 

Barry wants to pull his hair out. 

“C’mon, we’ve got no time to explain _ anything _,” Green Lantern pipes up again, and kicks up into the air with a grin, “Either you’re in or you’re out, but I think you’ll get the hang of it soon.” 

_ [Onward, Barry Allen of Earth.] _

He watches Green Lantern fly away to assist Kirk and his men, staring with his mouth open while the superhero exchanges a couple of words with the Captain of the fire squad, before he’s up and hovering a couple of meters above the fire-y building. 

_ [Assist the Green Lantern.] _

Barry doesn’t need to be told twice, as he follows after Green Lantern, who is making one of his green constructs to wrap around the building. Barry’s flight is clumsy and unstable, but Bucky shouts for him to get a grip, and he wills himself to steel himself. 

It’s okay. He’s a paramedic. This is just another way he can help people, right? 

“Nice of you to join us, blueberry,” Green Lantern laughs, although his eyes are focused entirely on the slowly forming capsule that he’s building currently, “Let’s leave this fire without breath, what do you say?” 

Barry doesn’t know what he’s supposed to do. Up until now, the ring had only helped him _ help _ other people, and that had been as easy as just, you know, _ hoping _ for it to happen. He’d think about the injuries he wants to patch up, and then the ring would follow instinctively. Taking in a deep breath, he watches the other man’s movements, the arm that holds the ring stretched out in front of him where green light washes out from. 

Hesitantly, he mirrors the stance, and just _ hopes _. 

It takes a couple of seconds (horrible seconds, where Barry only feels dumb) but the same blue light that has wrapped around him _ twice _ , comes spilling out from the end of the ring, a string of energy circling around Green Lantern’s green light construct and mixing with it, making it _ stronger _, and aiding the man in the construction of what Barry assumes is a way to cut out the oxygen that’s feeding the fire. 

Green Lantern whoops next to him, victoriously, as the capsule finally gets completed and the fire within starts slowly dying out. The crowd below starts clapping, as well, and he distinguishes Danvers cheering his name underneath. He feels his cheeks heat up, as the last of the flames disappears, and so does the construct he made next to Green Lantern. 

“Whoa,” Barry’s voice comes out in a whoosh out of him, warmth spreading across his chest as he wills himself back down on the pavement. 

“You got that right,” the superhero says next to him, turning in his place to stare at Barry, before thrusting his hand in the middle of the two, “That was seriously the _ best _. I don’t think my ring has ever given me that much energy.” 

Before Barry has the time to say anything or at least shake the man’s hand, someone comes rushing to his back, clapping his shoulder and then proceeding to pull him into a hug. It’s Clark, he registers then, the familiar scent of his partner and co-worker wrapping around him like a blanket, and then his voice coming afterwards. 

“I think you need to get out of here,” Kent mumbles against the top of his hair, but Barry hears him loud and clear, “Meet us back at the station. We’ll wrap it up here, but you’re drawing a lot of attention.” 

Barry nods stiffly against his chest, adrenaline slowly slipping out from his body, leaving him worried and confused. The ring hadn’t talked around his co-workers or other people, only whispering softly in his mind when in public and talking in low tones in the sanctity of his apartment. Today, he had gotten a complete suit, head to toe, of blues and black, and helped Green Lantern, beloved hero of Central City, snuff out a rapidly increasing fire. 

In front of a ton of witnesses. 

Barry’s sure he’s not made for this superhero business. 

“Let’s go, blueberry,” the Green Lantern says, having overheard the conversation, “your buddy is right. We should get out of here.” 

So, they do. Barry feels a pang of guilt hit his chest just as he kicks off into the sky after the superhero, glancing once at ambulance 16 parked somewhere a couple of meters away from the firetruck. He catches Steve’s grimace and Clark’s tight form, his arms crossed across his chest. He decides the whole hero business is fun until you have to leave your partners to pick up your slack. 

With one more hopeful thought, Barry flies after Green Lantern, trying to steady himself, and smiles softly when he hears surprised murmurs coming from down in the site. 

“It doesn’t hurt anymore!” a child perks up somewhere in Natasha’s ambulance, “I feel good now, miss!” 

* * *

They make it to the roof of an unmarked building that’s still undergoing construction. Barry recognizes the S logo that’s on everything in the site and thinks back to the night he met Maria Stark and got his ring. He’s so distracted by thoughts of how his life became this, that he doesn’t notice when the blue and black suit glitters out of existence. His paramedic badge is a sight for sore eyes, however, and he brushes the tip of his fingers over the edge, smiling softly to himself. 

“So, blueberry,” the Green Lantern begins, good-natured, “when did you get your ring?” 

Barry looks at the object in question, tilting his head to one side, and hums, “About a month ago, maybe.” He turns to look back at the superhero, trying not to feel vulnerable under the man’s gaze, “I didn’t even realize I had it on me until I came out of a burning car unscathed and my teammates saw it on my hand.” 

“It saved you?” is the next question, a raised eyebrow under the black mask covering his eyes. 

Barry nods, “Yeah, I guess it did,” he pauses, for a moment, and then continues, “It helped me save other people, as well. That night and for the next few weeks until a couple of days ago, when it started warning me the ring was getting depleted. I used it one more time on the last accident we were at and then it just--turned off, I suppose?” He shrugs, conflicted, “It stopped talking in the middle of a sentence, asking me to get it to the nearest battery.” 

“Do you not have your battery?” 

Barry draws a blank then. He’d been trying to learn as much as he could from the ring, asking questions from it, as it seemed to be an unlimited source of knowledge. He had figured it out by mistake, too, when he asked his reflection in the bathroom mirror what on earth he was wearing on his right hand and the ring had piped up in his head just the way it had talked to him the first time in the ambulance 16. 

_ [Barry Allen of Earth,] _ it had said, soft and ominous, _ [you have the ability to instill great hope.] _

So he’d had interrogated the ring. Sort of. Barry hadn’t really known what to ask, simply asking for directions on where the ring had come from, why it had chosen him and how he could use it to help others. The answers were whispered to him like a secret: the ring was one of the rings belonging to the Blue Lantern Corps, crafted from the strongest emotion known to living beings, hope; it had chosen him because he was a beacon of light and optimism, a strong example of a Blue Lantern; and he could power it by _ hoping _. 

He had asked other questions, sure, but he had always seen the ring as unlimited. It had said so itself: whatever you can hope for, you can do. And Barry could hope for a lot of things. 

“This didn’t exactly come with an instruction manual,” he finally settles for that answer, although his frown is apologetic, “it came to me, saved me from being burnt alive, and then just--I guess I should have asked more questions, huh?” 

The Green Lantern laughs. Barry should feel bad about it, but there’s no malice behind the other man’s chuckle. 

“It sounds just like the rings to do something like that,” the superhero says, a soft smile on his features, and Barry wonders if he’s cheekbones really are as high as he thinks they are under the mask, “appear on your hand, save your butt, but never give you your battery to recharge it. I should get in contact with Saint Walker, he’s one of the few other Blue Lanterns I actually know.” 

Then, as an afterthought, Green Lantern adds, “It’s a good thing you stumbled upon me when you did, right?” 

“Yeah,” Barry’s voice sounds distant even for him, “why did that happen?” 

“The recharge?” Lantern asks, crossing his arms across his chest, “Green and blue power rings are symbiotic,” he explains, as if that was the most obvious thing in the world, “Blue power rings will boost green rings like mine to above average levels. I suppose green power rings charge up blue rings to normal standards.” 

“And the suit?” Allen gets a little high pitched somewhere there at the end and feels heat crawl up his neck and into his cheeks, “I mean, that had never happened before.” 

Green Lantern seems to find him endearing, if the look on his face is anything to go by, but that only makes Barry feel a lot more embarrassed. 

“From what I gather, blue power rings can work at half their potential by themselves--translations, knowledge, protection in outer space--” Barry makes a confused noise in the back of his throat, but Lantern doesn’t let up, “you know, the basics.” 

Allen is pretty sure “protection in outer space” doesn’t count as _ the basics _. 

“Your ring is also good for healing, like _ really _good, which is probably why you used it so much, but none of the more advanced uses would be available without a Green Lantern--that’s me!” the superhero finishes with a flourish of his hands, and Barry has to stop himself from laughing. 

Straightening himself out, but with a smile etched on his features, the Lantern thrust his hand out between their two bodies again, and says, decidedly, “Let’s try this one more time, why don’t we?” 

“I’m Hal Jordan,” the Green Lantern mask snuffs out of existence. The paramedic stands there--a little shocked, a lot confused--and stares straight into warm, brown eyes, freckles peppering the bridge of a straight nose and high cheekbones. “I’m one of the Green Lanterns for sector 2814--that would be where Earth is--and I guess now I’m your Lantern Partner.” 

Barry snorts out a laugh, but takes the hand offered to him, “Barry Allen, paramedic--still unsure about the Blue Lantern part, but we’ll get there.” 

Hal smiles at him, wide and sunshine-y, and Allen thinks this might be alright. 

* * *

His co-workers? Godsent. 

When Barry finally makes it back to their station, he is greeted by Natasha at the garage. The woman is getting things back in order inside her team’s ambulance, restocking necessary materials and recalibrating equipment as is routine. She’s a methodical worker, but she hums pieces of Tchaikovsky and other Russian composers under her breath (_ Rachmaninoff, _ she had answered softly, when Barry had asked her his first week as a paramedic, _ and Shostakovich, of course _), her movements elegant, delicate even. 

“We managed to convince people to erase any and all videos from their phones,” she pipes up, and Barry stops dead in his tracks, “the kids were easier to convince, strangely, but some teenagers and adults were difficult. Bucky probably was a little over the top, if you ask me.” 

He’s not quite sure what to say, and he knows Natasha is not big on physical contact, but Barry still walks the rest of the distance between them and hugs her loosely with one arm, hiding his face in the space between her shoulder and head. One of her hands come to tangle in his hair, massaging small circles into his scalp, and she turns sideways to press a soft kiss to his temple. 

“We got you, _ blueberry _,” her voice is teasing, but not malicious, “I have no idea what happened today, but we’ve seen stranger things, right?” 

Barry recalls briefly that Natasha had saved Hawkeye six months ago. She was sworn to secrecy, and Romanoff took her secrets very seriously. The _ Who is Hawkeye? _ betting pool had been open since then, with newer and more ridiculous options getting coined in every day. In a world where that was a real thing they kept in their break room, Barry is sure all of them had seen their share of strange. 

“Thank you,” he finally murmurs, and squeezes her waist before letting go altogether, “Bucky doesn’t know how to do anything remotely close to _ normal _. Cut him some slack.” 

Natasha’s laughter follows him through the door and into the breakroom, where most of the others are sitting around, playing _ Go fish _ of all things. Sam is in the middle of saying something offensive straight at Diana, who doesn’t even flinch. Clark notices him first. 

“Barry!” Kent is up on his feet in no time, cards forgotten, “Where have you been? I thought you’d get here earlier!” 

Allen smiles sheepishly at his partner, “I was--uh--I was trying to figure out this whole mess,” he admits, holding his ring up to eye-level, “Apparently there’s a lot to it.” 

“We figured,” Bucky pipes up from his place on the table, grinning wolfishly up at him with his feet propped up on Sam’s lap, “you know, bright blue spandex and all?” 

Barry wants to throttle him, but he doesn’t only because Clark stops him from doing it, and Carol is already hitting the other man over the head, shushing him. Barnes says something about everyone having a soft spot for Barry, to which everyone agrees with varying levels of enthusiasm, and Allen feels his chest constrict with affection. 

Then, everyone falls silent. His whole shift-squad blinking at him, expectantly. 

“_ Fine _,” he says, through gritted teeth, just as Natasha slinks into the room quietly, sitting down on Diana’s lap without so much as a word, “Remember the Stark accident?” 

He starts telling the story for the second time that day, making sure to not skip over any of the details, since he knows his friends are eager to hear. Bucky had started recording him, of course, arguing that Kirk and his men had a right to know what had happened. Barry was a little nervous about the fact that so many people had seen his _ transformation _ but he still hasn’t quite made up his mind about taking up the Blue Lantern mantle, so he’ll worry about that when he gets there. 

“So you _ heal _?” John’s gruff voice comes from the couch in the back. 

“Not _ exactly _ ,” Barry answers, already sitting on the chair Clark had offered him minutes ago, “I mean _ yes _, but I do other things as well. Green Lantern says that none of the injuries I had treated before got a 100% healed because my ring doesn’t work at full capacity without a green ring around,” then, as an afterthought, he adds, “Plus, it takes time. I could probably get rid of horrible things if given time and a Green Lantern at disposition.” 

A murmur of awe and appraisal comes from the rest of his teammates, and then Diana lifts her hand delicately. 

“Yes, Diana?” 

“Is he cute?” 

Barry blinks at her, confused, “Who’s cute?” 

“Green Lantern,” Steve continues, seemingly on board with this line of questioning, “Natasha won’t tell us who Hawkeye is, but at least we know he’s cute by her standards.” 

Allen has no idea why they’d ask him this. He hadn’t found any use for the question when they had posed it to Natasha six months ago, either, and it certainly didn’t make sense for him now. 

Nevertheless, if he thinks about it, Hal Jordan _ was _ handsome. Anyone with two eyes could see that even with his mask on: perfect nose, perfect teeth, that wind swept hair and those freckles. Barry especially liked Green Lantern’s freckles. But no one knew that, either, and he intends to keep the little detail to himself. 

“He’s your standard Cali man,” he settles for that answer, shrugging, but he must be blushing, because Diana smiles fondly at him and nods once, resolutely. 

“He must be right up your alley, then?” she says, smiling softly, and if Barry didn’t know any better, he’d think she was being sweet about it. 

Carol howls with laughter, leaning so far back in her chair than she ends up falling to the floor in a clatter. Sam tries his best to catch her, but he’s too busy laughing himself, so the woman slips right out of reach before he can stop it, and he ends up almost falling himself in the process. Barry rolls his eyes, except it has no fire, and tries to hide the certain blush that he feels is taking hold of his features. He hates how easy it is for him to do that. 

“Oh, shut up,” he mumbles, crossing his arms across his chest, and kicking Bucky’s chair that’s only a little ways away from him--Bucky complains that he should be hitting Diana and not him, but he’s also laughing, already sending Kirk the video he’d been recording. 

Barry doesn’t know what will happen next, but he got these fools to figure it out, right? 

(And Hal. He’s got Hal.) 

* * *

They start to sort-of-not-officially work together.

While Hal is, in fact, Coast City born and raised, he’s been hanging around Central more often than not, now that he’s met Barry. At the beginning, it had made sense for Jordan to be spending so much time away from his city. The first visit, the California-based hero had visited Barry in his own apartment with a _ friend _—the man (or rather, alien) he had referred to as Saint Walker before—to have him explain everything about the Blue Lantern Corps to the newest member of its lines.

Barry had been thankful to meet the senior officer (if he could call Lantern Corps _ officers _), but he insisted he wasn’t sure he could keep up with Corps responsibilities on top of his daytime (all-time?) job as a paramedic. He had received his battery, which would allow him to charge his ring without Green Lantern around and had been taught the words to the pledge. Saint Walker had answered all his doubts, offering plenty of information when Barry hadn’t even known where to start, and hadn’t pressured him into making any kind of decision.

“It is you who decides how to help spread hope,” Saint Walker had said, voice soft, “no one gets to decide which path you can take.”

It leaves Barry feeling a little bit calmer, but Hal is definitely interested in working alongside him.

The next visit, Jordan had swooped in through his window, wanting to try a little more of their rings’ symbiotic relationship. He had prattled on about something or another that had to do with the Emotional Spectrum (something that Barry _ still _ needed to ask the ring about) and had coaxed Allen on his free day to go a few rounds of tests. The day had been fun and experimental. Barry had managed to tap into ring functions he hadn’t even known existed.

By the time he saw Hal the third time, the man offered no other explanation than the supposed visit of an old high school friend that lived in Central. Barry wasn’t sure whether he should believe the Green Lantern or not, but he really saw no harm in spending more time with Jordan, understanding (or at least trying to) everything that the ring and their rings’ symbiosis had to offer.

His visits became so frequent, that Barry’s friends were already becoming suspicious. Hal really had no sense of self-preservation and had started to visit Barry at the warehouse in his civilian clothing. Allen had been mortified when he found Jordan sitting in the break room, chatting with Bucky good-naturedly about some supposed childhood history that Barnes _ insisted _ hadn’t happened because he couldn’t remember, and he and Stevie were Barry’s oldest friends only beaten by Iris herself, who was essentially Allen’s adoptive sister in all but legal documents.

“I’m telling you, it happened,” Hal had insisted, “It was on a summer—you have to remember the summer Bar spent in Cali, Buck! C’mon!”

But of course, Bucky could never remember that, because it hadn’t happened. Hal hadn’t even bothered to check in with Barry if his covert-story was good enough to fool his friends, and Barnes had been the first one to start side-eyeing Hal and Barry’s every interaction. Sure, James actually got along very well with Jordan, but he was still suspicious on good grounds, and Barry had _ really _ wanted to keep Green Lantern’s secret identity—well, a _ secret _.

Clark and Natasha were probably on to him by now. Kent knows him almost as well as Iris does, despite not knowing him as long as she had, and Romanoff had memorized all his tells a long time ago. It wasn’t genius work to figure out that Hal Jordan popped out of nowhere into Barry’s life, and it had been right around the time that Green Lantern had made his appearance as well. His friends weren’t stupid, thank you very much.

Carol and Sam share Air Force stories with Jordan when they meet him (and hey, that’s something Barry didn’t know) and Hal tells them that they should meet his friend Rhodey, who’s still involved in the military and is probably the best, most amazing pilot Hal had had the honor of meeting and flying with. Allen finds him sharing more solemn words with Wilson, who has always been so good at listening and who Barry knows to be the best at making the bad seem less terrible, in what appears to be some intimate conversation that he later feels like shit about interrupting.

Despite his ever-growing fear that his entire squad (or, god forbid, the entire 77th ambulance warehouse, Booster included) would eventually find out about Hal’s double life, having the man around is probably Barry’s greatest blessing of the last year.

Jordan is hilarious, and kind, and free-spirited when he’s out of the suit, keeping Allen on his toes constantly and making him laugh even on the days when losing a patient is too much, too heavy; and it’s plenty rewarding, as well, to be able to share the air with Green Lantern, too, who is, in contrast, disciplined, and dutiful, and ready to lay down his life for just about anyone.

Including Barry, who he has known for a little over a month. Including Barry’s _ friends _, too, who he considers an extension of Allen himself.

Barry supposes this is what making new friendships is like.

By the time the first month is over, Jordan doesn’t really bother coming up with excuses to come up to Central on Barry’s free days (or even when he’s working). The paramedic looks forward to seeing Hal any chance he gets, and they text back and forth like a couple of schoolboys with crushes. Steve’s words, not his. 

Hal will tell him stories about his friends (Tony, Clint, and Oliver), who he hopes Barry can meet soon because he’s sure they would get along just _ fantastic _ , and Allen returns the favor by telling him embarrassing details on _ his _friends. There would be no use in saying anything else that’s bordering on normal, he explains, because Jordan has already met (and charmed) all of his friends.

It’s strange, but Barry really likes hanging out with Hal.

Sometimes their hangouts will turn into more serious business in the middle of the day. It never escalates as far as an apartment building on fire, but Barry keeps busy. Clark worries a lot about him (he’s sure his entire squad does; Peggy and Iris still haven’t found out, but they’d worry as well, if they knew) but Barry assures him that Green Lantern is a good partner, and that no harm has befallen him up until now.

It should worry the paramedic that his friend looks about ready to swaddle him in a blanket and toss him in the back of ambulance 16.

“So, you like him, right?”

It’s Bucky’s birthday and he’s throwing some big party at his and Sam’s apartment for no other reason than he is turning 27. Steve had tried to tell him there was nothing special about that number, but Barnes still went all out this year. Like he does every year. Natasha was right when she said James liked to be over the top.

And _ because _ he was over the top, Bucky had of course invited Hal without hesitation, going as far as telling Jordan to bring all those friends he always talks about all the time. Barry had been nervous the entire day while he helped Sam and Steve set up the decorations for Barnes’ party (because he was a nerd, that’s why), but he couldn’t quite put his finger on it. 

When Diana had gotten off her shift, still decked in her paramedic outfit from head to toe as she walked through the door, she had first asked Barry if he was anxious about meeting Hal’s best friends. Allen had stuttered out a reply that hadn’t quite convinced the woman, but her follow up question was even worse than the first one. 

“What do you mean?” Barry’s voice is maybe an octave higher, he didn’t know he had the range. 

Prince only laughs behind her hand, rolling her eyes fondly at him before pinching his cheek a little harder than necessary. Without offering so much as an explanation, Barry stares owlishly after her as she slides away from him with a swing to her step, saying that she has to go change out of her work clothes and into whatever Natasha brought for her. He wants to stop her, but he’s being grabbed by the arm and pulled back before he realizes what is happening. 

“Not even gonna say hello?” Hal’s voice teases him, and Barry huffs out, annoyed that he was stopped in his tracks, “You’re finally meeting the guys! They’re dying to meet you!” 

Barry’s nerves come back in full force, as Jordan starts to pull him along Sam’s living room and to the entrance, where three men are standing in a semicircle, talking among themselves. Allen feels the sudden urge to dug in his heels and stop Hal from introducing him, but he knows how childish that would be, so he refrains from doing anything other than start prattling about how Hal should probably say hi to Bucky first. 

“It’s fine, the raccoon will get over it,” the Green Lantern laughs, “I’ll go say his birthday wishes later. Right now, Tony demands your attention.” 

Barry should run away, really. 

But it’s too late. Hal stops right in front of his friends, who all stop in their conversation and smile at Barry like he’s prey and they’re hungry predators. To his right, stands a man wearing a suit, his red tie loose around his neck, and Allen _ thinks _ that might be Tony, with his brown eyes and long lashes and ridiculous rose-tinted sunglasses. Next to him, Clint, probably, who is blonde like Oliver, but who has a clean shaven face and is only a little taller than Tony is. At the end, there’s Oliver, with his carefully trimmed beard and his leather jacket, and Barry thinks he’s going to have a stroke. 

“So you’re Barry Allen,” Clint whistles, looking less and less menacing by the second, “I guess we’ll have to make a new spot in Hal’s life for another blonde-blue-eyed man, huh?” 

Barry smiles sheepishly, clasping Clint’s offered hand with a low chuckle, “Here I thought I had enough competition with Steve.” 

He shakes hands with Oliver next, but doesn’t make a move towards Tony until the other man makes a move first. Hal had told him several times how the other man didn’t like to be handed stuff or how he deviated from conventionalities--the last thing Barry wants is to come of as rude or stand-offish on their first meeting. He mumbles a soft greeting, saying how glad he was to finally meet them. 

“Hal told us that it’s someone’s birthday,” Oliver says, after he’s sipped at his beer, “We brought some gifts for the host, but we honestly have no idea where to put them.” 

Barry notices then the two expensive bottles of whiskey and scotch that Oliver and Tony are both holding. Clint, it seems, went for some cheaper vodka, and Barry hopes Bucky is not going to try to drink them all tonight. 

“Ah,” Barry says, stupidly, “Let me show you guys to the kitchen! Bucky and Sam are just getting the last things ready, I’m sure he’d love to see what you guys brought!” 

The three men nod, following after him and Hal as they make their way back towards the kitchen. He hasn’t let go of Jordan’s hand, and it seems as if the other man doesn’t see any issue with this. Barry wonders momentarily what it all means. 

“Buck!” Allen calls out, pushing past the kitchen door and into the crowded room, where most of the 77th’s paramedics are cheering James on while he drinks straight from the bottle. 

“Bartholomew!” comes Bucky’s swift reply, after he’s gulped down what appears to be tequila, “And Harold, too! Come on, come in--we’re drinking!” 

Natasha snorts from her place up in the counter next to Bucky, but her face twists into something like shock as soon her eyes fall on the newcoming party. She’s not looking at Barry, precisely, or Hal, but rather at someone behind them, and Allen follows her look until they fall on Clint’s face. The man isn’t looking at her, laughing at something Oliver was saying behind him and Barry wonders for a moment if he’s imagined it, when he turns around to meet Natasha’s eyes and the woman isn’t even looking at them anymore. 

Huh, strange. 

“Buchanan, you crazy idiot!” Hal says, and his hand slips away from Barry’s, leaving the appendage cold and alone, “Why didn’t you wait for me? My friends brought expensive liquor!” 

Said friends clamor up behind Barry, and make their way around the kitchen island to reach Bucky. The others from the warehouse start filing out of the room, Natasha included, and Hal starts introducing his friends to the birthday boy and Steve. 

“Hey, I know you.” 

Tony’s voice snaps Barry out of his thoughts, and he leans forward to join the semicircle they have now made around Bucky. Tony is pointing at Steve, sunglasses perched on the edge of his nose as he stares at Rogers over rose-tinted lenses. The image is kind of hilarious, all topped off with Steve’s pink blush and tense shoulders. Next to Tony he looks rightfully huge, but Barry’s partner is acting as if he was still that skinny runt he had met all those years ago fighting with bullies in back alleys. 

“You know Stevie?” Bucky’s probably already tipsy, and Barry can’t help but snort, “Wait, who are you?” 

“That’s Tony, Buck,” Hal answers, almost proudly, “Tony Stark.” 

The puzzle piece clicks into place. Barry makes a sound of recognition, turning to look at Tony wildly and wondering why he hadn’t realized it until now. This was Maria’s son! Steve had talked non-stop about him when he had piled into ambulance 16 again after leaving Howard and Maria in the capable hands of Dinah. Mostly terrible things, sure, but there had also been good things like how brown his eyes had been, or how pretty his smile was. 

Not to mention Tony Stark was probably on any newspaper and magazine available. Stark Industries had moved their main HQ recently to Central City. How did Barry never make that connection? 

“You’re Tony Stark?” Barry asks, his voice high and confused. 

“You didn’t tell them I was Tony Stark?” comes the engineer’s reply, although it’s directed at Hal and not at Allen himself, “I don’t understand you, you little leech.” 

Hal shrugs, nonchalant, as if his best friend--the one he told Barry all sorts of embarrassing drunk stories about--wasn’t well-known genius, billionaire, playboy, philanthropist, next owner of Stark Industries and the son of the couple ambulance 16 had aided and saved a month ago. Jordan needs to get his priorities straight sometimes. 

“We helped on your parents crash,” Steve pipes up, matter-of-factly, “you were there when I went to deliver them at the hospital, with Dinah.” 

“You saved my mothers life, then?” Tony doesn’t pay any attention to Steve, to which Rogers looks not only disappointed, but also pissed off, and turns instead towards Barry, plucking his sunglasses up into his hair, “You’re the Barry she hasn’t stopped talking about the last month?” 

“Ah,” Allen feels heat up in his cheeks, but he tries to act naturally--it’s probably not very convincing, “I--you must thank her for the flowers she got me. They were lovely.” 

Tony laughs, and throws an arm around Barry in easy camaraderie. Allen tries not to tense up at the sudden contact, as he wasn’t really expecting the evening to go down like this. 

“Hal, I found mom’s new favorite adopted son,” he says, and he sounds so serious that Barry gets a little concerned, “Barry is officially now a Stark, you’re officially back in the streets. I don’t make the rules, my mother does.” 

Hal opens his mouth to say something against that, but Bucky’s jumping to hug Barry’s other side, effectively cutting the other man up, all the while clutching his precious tequila bottle to his chest. Allen thinks it’s hilarious how drunk he is and it’s only around nine. Tony, on the other hand, tries not to stumble under the other added weight, and grins impishly at them both. 

“So, birthday boy,” Tony leans over Barry so he can talk to Barnes, and tilts his unopened whiskey bottle towards him, “is this a party or what?” 

Bucky honest-to-God screeches right into Barry’s ear, and then proceeds to drag the two of them away and out of the kitchen. 

Tony, like Hal, is fast at making friends with everyone. After slipping out of the kitchen and knocking back a horrible shot of tequila that Bucky had insisted he take, Barry had tried his best to duck under Stark’s arm and into safety. The engineer doesn’t seem to be having any of that, so Allen is sort of stuck with him and James until they’ve both decided Barry’s had had enough. Because of this, the paramedic gets a front-row-and-center seat into Tony’s smooth charm as he administers one shot after the other to anyone who gets close enough. 

Barry, thankfully, has managed to evade any more shots after the second one he was given, and is only a little bit buzzed. He’s not all that used to drinking. 

It isn’t until a little bit later that Barry actually starts to wonder where Hal had stayed behind, but his question doesn’t go unanswered for very long when he spots Jordan leaning against one of the bookshelves in Sam and Bucky’s living room, overlooking the party with an amused smile on his face. Steve is standing next to him, although he looks less like he’s having fun and more like he wants to throttle Tony. They’re talking about something, Barry’s sure, but he wants to be with Hal, so he doesn’t feel bad about interrupting.

“Oh, _ now _ you’re back, aren’t you?” Hal greets him, although there’s no fire behind his words, “Just as I’m chatting Steve up to take him home with me, you decide it’s time to pay attention to me again, Bar? I’m wounded. I really am.” 

Laughter bubbles out of Barry, and he comes to stand on Hal’s other side, bumping his shoulder against Jordan’s to punctuate how ridiculous he’s being. Steve has chosen this moment to stop looking like someone put salt on all the sugar shakers, leaning over Hal to arch a quizzical eyebrow straight at his partner. 

“How drunk are you, lightweight?” comes Steve teasing remark, and Barry rolls his eyes. 

“I’m not drunk,” he answers, poking his tongue out at Steve childishly, “I’m only slightly _ buzzed _ . Two shots are hardly any reason to come crashing.”  
  
Rogers, of course, is relentless, and leans back on the bookshelf with a simple, “Tell that to Barry Allen at Springbreak 2012 in Miami.” 

Hal _ gasps, _ his hand coming to clutch at his chest like some dame from the 50s whose sensibilities had been attacked, and turns his entire body to look at Barry, “What is this story that I have not heard about just yet and why _ haven’t _ I heard about it, blueberry?” 

The nickname makes Barry freeze in his place, but before Steve can finish putting two and two together, there is a loud noise coming from just outside and the follow up sound of debris falling. People are screaming and scrambling to get away from what used to be the balcony, where there is now a gaping hole staring back at them. Barry makes a quick visual count of everyone who is supposed to bere, and tries not to panic when he can’t immediately see Clark, Natasha or Diana. 

“Everyone back up!” comes Clint’s voice, who was still trying to regain his footing somewhere the closest to the hole, blood trickling down his arm where glass or rubble must’ve gotten him. 

People huddle to the back of the room, and Barry lets out a breath of relief when it’s Clark who’s opening the front door and rushing everyone outside. There seems to not be anyone hurt other than Clint and two others, who had been the closest to the balcony when the sound had gone off, and Natasha (_ thank God she’s alive _) is already pulling the first-aid kit that Bucky and Sam keep in their bathroom. 

“Barton, you too!” Romanoff’s voice is tight around the edges, her eyes unreadable as she stretches her arm towards the blonde man, who doesn’t seem to want to move from his place. He’s staring straight outside, eyebrows drawn in together, his lips curled back into something that looks like a snarl. 

Barry only dimly registers Hal rushing to his friend’s side. 

“Don’t suit up, yet,” Hal tells him as he passes him, “wait for my signal.” 

Allen doesn’t nod. 

Green swallows him whole until his Green Lantern suit is firmly in place, and he’s right beside Clint in no time, helping him on his own two feet. Allen swats away the little voice in his head telling him to cover Hal and make sure no one finds out he’s actually a superhero, and turns around to see if there’s anyone else left in the room. 

Steve is by the door now, with Clark, pushing Bucky outside into Diana’s (_ and three, all accounted for _) arms. Most of his paramedic squad, and some of Kirk’s men are standing by. Far from where the hole is, but still close enough that they could spring into action if their services were needed. Natasha is still standing in the middle of the room, looking more and more concerned the more Clint refuses to come with her. 

Before Barry can register the next thing, Oliver is moving past Natasha, who tries to grab ahold of him but can’t, and joins Hal and Clint standing out in the open. Romanoff curses in what Barry believes is Russian, and turns away defeated to walk out into the hallway in search for the other two injured people she should be treating. 

The blue ring pulsates in his finger, but Barry wills it to stand down. He’ll follow Hal’s leadership.

He starts backing up, closer to where Kirk and Spock were standing and Allen notices the figure hovering just outside the building, arms crossed tightly across his chest, yellow outline around him and skin the same red of Barry’s ambulance. The paramedic blinks once, twice, and when the image doesn’t go away, he tells himself to let it go and just roll with the punches. 

“You’re a hard man to pin down, Hal Jordan,” the attacker (or who Barry presumes is the attacker) says, hovering closer to the edge of the busted-up building, “From Coast City to New York to Central. You don’t stay too long in any one place, do you?” 

“I mean,” comes Hal’s offhanded reply, but the tension line of his shoulders give away how high-alert he is right now, “when you can fly at top Mach 10, or go through wormholes from point A to point B, you’d probably visit your friends at all times possible.” 

The man throws his head back and laughs, something that’s both parts unsettling and disturbing, in all accounts. His laughter isn’t of mirth, or amusement, and when he stops, his face falls into something that Barry can’t quite place his finger on. The man’s eyes are trained on Hal, but they take some turns around the other two men flanking his side, and Barry himself, who’s now standing a few feet behind them. 

“Bow and arrow,” Clint says, voice so low Barry thought he had imagined it, “_ now _.” 

Hal shushes him, but Barton is already stretching one arm forward and the other backward, holding them loosely in what Barry thinks is the standard way to hold a bow. It looks kinda ridiculous, until one of Hal’s green constructs appear right in the middle of his stance, forming into a bow and arrow that fits perfectly in place. In one swift motion, Clint is plucking back the string, aiming and sending three green energy arrows zipping through the air towards the newcomer. 

From Hal’s other side, three other arrows fly right into the same target at Clint’s, and Barry notices that Oliver is holding a similar construct in his arms. The man, however, seems unfazed, and simply constructs a yellow wall before him. The arrows crash and dissipate into thin air. Barry had never seen it happening to Hal’s constructs before. 

Before Barry has any chance at surprise, there’s a powering up noise coming from somewhere in front of them, right behind the man, and then a click, before their assailant is being propelled forward with the force of a repulsor beam against his back. When he is down, everyone can see Iron Man’s solid form hovering in the air outside the apartment, two packs of _ something _ slung over his left arm, right palm outstretched in front of him in his usual pose as the beam subsides. 

“Blue Lantern!” Hal’s voice snaps Barry out of his train of thought, “_ Now! _” 

He’s probably two seconds too late, because when Barry powers up his suit and lunges forward to do _ whatever _, the man is already constructing his own yellow spear, from when he’s down in the ground, and blindingly throwing it against Hal. Green Lantern tries to protect himself with one of his energy constructs, but it shatters right as the spear goes through it, and hits Hal’s shoulder with a sound that Barry will probably plague his nightmares from this day on.

What happens next is a flurry of moving bodies and shouting. Iron Man doesn’t say a word as he flies over the man, throws what now Barry can see are quivers in front of Clint and Oliver, and picks Hal up and into safety. Paramedics and firemen start working together in synchrony, yelling out orders at each other, and trying to either move out of the superhero’s way or get to Jordan so they can help. 

The yellow construct has fizzled out of existence, once Oliver has sprung into action and hit the attacker on the side of the head with the back of the bow he’d retrieved from one of the quivers, but the wound in Green Lantern’s shoulder doesn’t stop bleeding. Clark surges forward first, taking Hal from Iron Man’s hands before the iron-clad superhero is looping around the room (and there goes Buck’s favorite vase) and turning to join the fight. 

Clint and Oliver are, apparently, well-versed in hand-to-hand combat, a thought that would surprise Barry if he wasn’t so busy connecting the dots in his head. Natasha _ knew _ Clint. Natasha also knew one of the two men in existence that still brought arrows to a gunfight. Not to mention that Hal had told Barry earlier into their friendship, that Clint had moved into Central around six months ago, when the vigilante known as Hawkeye had popped up from Coast City to Central. It made sense that if Hal was a superhero himself, his friends would be, too. 

“If we make it out of here alive,” Barry tells Hal, already by his side and using his ring to help, “I’m gonna have words with you and all of your friends for reckless behavior.” 

Hal only chuckles, but the movement must jostle his shoulder in just the right way that it actually pains him, because he winces. Barry’s ring is better when Hal’s around, but Allen is sure he can’t patch up a wound like this in time to get back to help the two men plus one iron suit fight against someone who is seriously getting the upper hand on them with the yellow ring. 

“Hope is the enemy of fear,” Hal grits out, as Clark presses a piece of gauze to his shoulder, trying to stop the bleeding, “Sinestro’s ring is powered by fear--your ring could deplete his if you get close enough, and maybe we can take him in for good.” 

Barry nods once, tightly, and goes to stand up. Before he can take any more steps away from Jordan, however, he makes a hasty, last-minute decision and leans back down to stare at Hal straight in the eye. Green Lantern makes a funny sound of confusion, and Allen just surges forward to press his lips against his. 

It’s not so much of a kiss and it doesn’t last any longer than five seconds, but when Barry moves away is to the image of Hal’s smile beaming up at him. The paramedic feels warmth spread across his chest, but is snapped out of his bliss by the sound of Iron Man’s repulsors going off behind him in quick succession. 

“When we’re done,” he says, snapping back up again, “why don’t we go on a date?” 

Hal laughs this time, and only gets Clark’s reprimand for moving too much. Barry doesn’t waste another minute, then, turning to the battle again, where Clint is already out of commission and being carried away by Kirk, who was carefully trying to avoid being seen by Sinestro. Allen isn’t quite sure where he stands on getting his friends in the middle of crossfire, but he’s sure happy trained individuals are around to help. 

He hovers closer to Iron Man, who doesn’t let up in trying to subdue Sinestro with repulsor energy alone. Oliver is still battling the man in hand to hand, using his bow as some sort of sword instead of the purpose it was made of. In such a small space, Barry thinks it would be impossible for either of the archers to get any shot that would make any damage. 

“Can you get me a distraction while I get close to him?” Barry asks Iron Man, when Sinestro jumps out of the way at the sight of his construct. 

He’s not quite sure what he expected, but the disembodied voice that comes from the suit’s external communication system sounds _ oddly _ familiar, “Give me thirty seconds and I can get you a window.” 

Barry nods. He’s not quite sure how close he has to be to Sinestro’s ring to actually de-power it, but he’ll make sure for the distance between them is as short as possible; so short, in fact, that Allen can press his ring to the yellow one without much of a hassle. He’d done that with Hal once, in one of their training exercises, and the energy resulting of that action had pushed them both backwards. It had been exhilarating. 

He counts down to thirty, flying away to the other side of the room as if he were helping Diana tend to Clint, who has now passed out from sheer exhaustion (or pain). While he’s at it, he tries to go over Barton’s worst-looking wounds with his ring. Sinestro seems to pay him no mind, then, something that Allen is going to make sure costs him later on. Barry counts down the seconds in his head, careful to keep his peripheral vision on Iron Man and Sinestro himself so that he’ll spring into action as soon as the opening is created. 

As it turns out, it’s not so much an opening as it is Iron Man shooting Sinestro’s feet from under him just in time for Oliver to gain the upper hand. The assailant is held in a headlock, the hand that’s holding his ring set into place against his chest, and Barry surges forward, blue construct wrapping around Sinestro’s feet and torso to keep him from fighting the archer’s hold. The man, incapable of breaking through the energy of Barry’s ring, tries to conjure up another construct to pull Oliver’s feet from underneath him. 

It’s too late. Barry snaps the yellow thing in half with another blue one of his own, and comes to press his ring to Sinestro’s own. Unlike the time Hal and he had done this, energy hadn’t pushed him away from Sinestro, but rather, Barry could feel as the _ fear _ contained in the other man’s ring was escaping out of it, yellow suit flickering out of existence and leaving the man powerless. 

Oliver lets him go and Sinestro falls forward, depleted. Barry stands there, a little dumbfounded, and brings his ring up to his face to stare at it. He’ll never understand any of this. At all. He was just glad he had Hal here to explain everything about this part of the universe that he just couldn’t get a grasp on. 

* * *

+1

The following hours, from coming down from Sam and Bucky’s apartment to rushing Clint to the hospital in one of the ambulances from the 56th warehouse, are a blur in Barry’s mind. As soon as Sinestro’s down and Iron Man has apprehended him with a pair of energized handcuffs (and his ring taken away), Allen had rushed back to Hal’s side and gotten preoccupied with healing his wounds. Jordan had said something about Barton being the one who needed immediate medical attention, but Diana had already taken him down outside. 

At the hospital (where Clark had _ insisted _ they take Hal even though Barry had already taken care of him), Barry’s already out of Blue Lantern’s suit and in his normal, casual clothes. The place is filled to the brim with people from the party, most of them his co-workers, hoping to see Clint and the other two injured people (Chekov and Kord, Barry found out later). 

Hal didn’t have any real reason to be there, Allen knew, but Doctor Banner had still gotten him checked out. Tony, who had disappeared somewhere when people had filed out (and who Barry was _ sure _ had to do something with Iron Man) had rushed into the room Clint had been checked into. 

“Well done, bird-brain,” Stark had said, sitting at the edge of Clint’s bed and brushing some strands of hair off his forehead, “you scared the living fuck out of me.” 

“Not as much as Hal scared Barry,” Barton fires back, but it’s obvious he’s enjoying being pampered by Tony, “he even asked our good Harold out on a date--_ finally _.” 

Barry feels his cheeks heat up, but it’s not as bad until Tony turns back at him to raise an eyebrow and says, “Weren’t you guys already dating?” 

Hal only laughs and kisses Barry’s temple for good measure.

**Author's Note:**

> Don't really know how Kirk and the rest made it into this one, but I knew I needed someone in the fire department, and that someone seemed like Captain James T. Kirk and his crew. Also, I know this is only like HALF a non-powered AU, but it still goes in the dumb non-powered AU series.
> 
> Fun tidbits about this fic! 
> 
> \- Natasha only hums Russian composers while she works. I had to ask my classical music friend what are some well-known and other obscure composers from Russia and then listened through some of their works while I wrote away at this AU. Russians have great music. 
> 
> \- Booster and Ted are proud owners of Ambulance 13 and they've taken rookie Jaime Reyes in with them since he made it to the warehouse. Jaime is constantly trying to keep them all out of trouble--he most usually fails at it. Teddy's hospital room was filled with flowers for the entire duration of his stay because Michael is a sap and he loves his boyfriend. 
> 
> \- The reason why I chose the Starks to be the ones Barry save before getting his ring is because a) I love inflicting pain on myself and b) I wanted to save the Starks so that Maria had her chance to be the mother she was always meant to be. Is Howard still a jerk in this AU? I don't actually know very much, but there's a reason why Tony moved from the Manhattan building to Central City. 
> 
> \- Hal telling Bucky some obscure history about Hal and Barry's childhood is a nod to another universe of mine: wedding AU. I'm always a sucker for interconnections and small easter eggs. Also, Hal is a superhero so he's probably seen his fair share of weird things and he thinks they're perfectly good cover stories. 
> 
> \- I chose 77 as their warehouse number because I wanted it to be 99 (hah!) but a small voice in my head told me to stop, so I went to the next best thing. I don't actually know how the paramedic job works a 100%, but I did some research to figure out several key items.


End file.
